


Untitled BDSM!Wincest ficlet

by triedunture



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Hallucinations, Hell, Incest Play, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is a drabble inspired by <a href="http://accidentallyallthesouls.tumblr.com/post/14436742441">this NSFW new hotness</a>. A birthday gift for .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled BDSM!Wincest ficlet

The creak of leather and rope.

The smell of oil, sweat, cloying dampness.

Dean checks the knots at Sam's arms, around his ankle, tests the tension in the rough length. Sam's thigh, the one held bent in the air, is quivering, wanting to be free. Funny how your muscles can say one thing, but your dripping cock says another.

The blindfold helps. Dean doesn't speak, doesn't make any sound beyond the grunt of effort it takes to slide into Sam, who keens and shakes in his bonds. He watches the line of his brother's back with the same cool dispassion he reserves for cleaning his guns or sharpening his knives. He watches with the eye of a professional.

Sam tries to remain silent, his jaw clenched shut to hold back the gasps. But when Dean slips a hand under his shaking knee and hikes his leg up even higher, burying even deeper in Sam's warm body, Sam can't stop the cry from tumbling from his lips.

"Stop," he pants, "stop it. Dean, help me!" This he shouts upward, as if his voice can reach the earth, or the heaven beyond. "Help me, I'm in hell!" A tear escapes the blindfold, tracking down his face, burning a salt path.

Dean rips the blindfold from Sam's eyes, catches a hank of his long hair in his hand, and yanks Sam's head around to look at him. Sam's eyes go wide. The tears don't stop.

"Hell," Dean says, and his voice is rough and dark, "is what happens when you realize what you really are." And he licks a long wet stripe up his brother's spine, ramming home over and over again. Sam hangs there in the ropes, helpless, powerless, except he doesn't struggle against his bonds, won't open his mouth to tell Dean No or You can't or Not like this.

Because this. This is it, what Sam is. And he knows it. Deep down. Which is why he doesn't look away, doesn't fight it when Dean reaches around and wraps a hand around his dripping cock, gives in when Dean pounds into him harder and harder and finally comes with a snarl. Sam lets it all happen. Welcomes it. Can't stop himself from coming in Dean's calloused hand, long thick spurts of come, and he aches with the shame of it.

The tears are still on his cheeks when the ropes disappear, when Dean disappears, and Lucifer stands before him. There's a strange light, blinding white and gold, building over the devil's shoulder.

"Someone's scratching to be let in," he says softly. "I think--I do believe it's your angel."

Sam sobs, unable to pick himself up off the ground, shaking and delirious with what he's done. What he's thought.

Lucifer sighs. "He's going to want to take you home, you know. Back to Dean."

"Liar," Sam grates out.

"Me? I'm the most honest thing you know," Satan says. "You on the other hand...." He reaches down, holds Sam's chin in the triangle of his thumb and forefinger, gently tips his eyes up to meet his cool gaze. "Your poor brother. He's already been through so much. And if you go back to him, and you can't help yourself...well, it's your life, Sam Winchester. I won't tell you how to live it, unlike some other people I know."

The light grows brighter, and Sam hears his name being sung.

"Oh god," he moans. He shuts his eyes and thinks of Dean, the real one, not the stone-faced one he's been letting fuck him.

"Hide," Lucifer whispers. "Take what's left of your soul and hide, Sam. Don't let that fool angel make things worse. Stay down here where it's safe. Where you can play with Dean--or someone like him--for the rest of eternity. I won't judge. I won't care."

"Sam," Castiel echoes, a chorus of longing.

Sam cowers in the dark where the light doesn't reach. And he doesn't come out even when Castiel takes hold of some other part of him and wings away, back to the world.


End file.
